


icarus drowns

by imposterhuman



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (minor but its mentioned), Angst, Angst and Fluff, Bucky Barnes Is a Good Bro, Comfort, Genius Tony Stark, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, Introspection, M/M, Metaphors, Sensory Overload, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, abuse of icarus metaphors, comforting bucky barnes, for once bucky is the stable one in this pairing, of a sort, winteriron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 14:30:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17346935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imposterhuman/pseuds/imposterhuman
Summary: Being a genius was fun, most of the time.He was Daedalus, the genius inventor, capable of anything and everything. He made his own wings, out of gold and titanium rather than feathers and wax.(He was a labyrinth, and inside was the monster that was his mind.)But sometimes, he was Icarus, flying too close to the sun, falling into the most beautiful self-destruction, drowning when he expected to crash..





	icarus drowns

**Author's Note:**

> when youre in a weird introspective mood and youve overanalyzed the myth of icarus in english class (i hate how icarus drowns, which is basically what inspired this. on a less philosophical note, could the ancient greeks not swim??)
> 
> thats it thats my fic
> 
> enjoy!

Being a genius was fun, most of the time.

 

Tony was capable of creating things most people couldn’t dream of. He could do math that gave even the most seasoned mathematicians a headache, could draw up schematics in his head for inventions that only he could understand, could work through probabilities and possible outcomes in fractions of seconds. He was Daedalus, the genius inventor, capable of anything and everything. He made his own wings, out of gold and titanium rather than feathers and wax.

 

But sometimes, everything was too much. Sometimes, he couldn’t calm the racing chants of  _ build, build, build.  _ Sometimes, he couldn’t isolate just one train of thought and everything blurred and ran together until he was in his lab combining every sane idea running through his brain. He was a labyrinth, and inside was the monster that was his mind. 

 

Sometimes, Tony couldn't breathe from all the  _ possibilities _ he saw, the way every interaction could end, the probability of each team member getting hurt from an action he could have prevented. It overwhelmed him, and he spiraled, brain working faster than most people could even begin to comprehend. Sometimes, he was Icarus, flying too close to the sun, falling into the most beautiful self-destruction, drowning when he expected to crash.

 

Even Bruce, his fellow genius, didn’t have the same problems he did. Bruce’s brain was calm, even before it had to be for the Hulk. Everything moved at a normal speed for Bruce (practically molasses-slow for Tony).  _ Bruce  _ didn’t run several threads of thought at once, layers upon layers of complexity.  _ Bruce  _ didn’t see numbers and formulas and patterns everywhere because he couldn’t shut off that part of his brain.  _ Bruce  _ didn’t need to work like he needed to breathe. No, that was all just Tony. 

 

Alcohol had helped, for a while. It had slowed his brain to a manageable level, had let him  _ breathe _ . The numbers stopped their frenzied swirls against his eyelids, the code stopped writing and rewriting itself on every surface. Tony thought, sometimes, that Howard might’ve been the only one who could ever understand, remembering in crystal clarity the man pressing a glass of whiskey in his hand at age seven, telling him to drink, telling him it would help. But he stopped drinking, for Pepper, for Peter, for Bucky. He stopped drinking, but the numbers kept coming.

 

He didn’t tell anyone, because how could he explain it without sounding crazy? He dealt with it as it came, as best he could. He spent hours in the workshop, creating everything and nothing until his fingers were blistered and bloody and the ideas slowed down. He drew up plans when he couldn't get to the workshop, for upgrades no one needed, for SI projects that would make Pepper happy. He dealt with it by himself, the only way he knew how. He could function on good days, he could pretend. On bad days, well, it was then that the lab never left blackout.

 

On one of his bad days, though, Tony forgot to blackout the lab. The bad day followed four sleepless nights, broken when Bucky hustled him into bed for a few hours. He had woken up practically manic with ideas and snuck out of their shared bed to go to the lab, mind alight with possibilities. He stood in the center of the room surrounded by holograms, a conductor among his glowing orchestra, when Bucky walked in, bleary from sleep.

 

“What’s all this, doll?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

 

Tony jolted, disturbed from his creation. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said shortly. “Brain won’t shut up.”

 

Bucky, sensing that Tony didn’t want or need conversation, wordlessly made himself comfortable on the sofa in the corner.

 

Tony went back to his holograms, hands tapping independently on different project screens. On one, a new gauntlet was reaching fruition; on the other, the newest code updates for the StarkPhone Pepper was asking for. In the background, he had simulations running on body armor tests, seeing what would hold and what needed fixing. JARVIS, familiar with the routine from many a sleepless night, was doing the usual tests without prompting and adding a few of his own. 

 

Bucky looked on, peaceful, from his perch on Tony’s couch. He didn’t push, he didn’t try to stop Tony from working, he just… sat there. That, more than anything, had Tony’s mouth spilling his secrets without his consent.

 

“I can’t make it stop,” he admitted, throwing himself off the proverbial cliff and hoping his wings wouldn’t fail. Bucky didn’t appear thrown by the non-sequitur. “I have all these ideas, but my brain moves faster than my hands can and I can’t get it all out before I’ve shifted tracks entirely. The more tired I am, the slower it gets. It’s easier to focus when I’m exhausted, because I can make myself think of only four or five projects at a time, instead of twenty. My head is a discordant symphony and I can’t make it stop.”

 

Silently, Bucky walked over to Tony, holding him lightly around his waist. “How can I help?” he asked finally, stroking Tony’s sides in grounding touches.

 

“Give me something to focus on,” Tony practically begged. His mind was whirling again, Bucky getting lost in the tornado.

 

Bucky started singing softly, gravelly voice dragging Tony back to reality. Tony couldn’t have said what Bucky was singing, only that there were words and it was comforting. He couldn’t even tell the language. Bucky’s voice did what AC/DC and Metallica and the other harsh screams masquerading as music couldn’t; it put Tony in the moment and halted most of his other thoughts.

 

“Focus on my voice,” Bucky said. “I’m here, I’ve got you. Don’t let that big brain of yours run away somewhere I can’t follow.”

 

“I can’t,” Tony whispered brokenly. 

 

“You can.”

 

Tony took a deep breath, focusing on Bucky; the way he smelled, the way his arms felt around Tony’s waist, his reassuring warmth at Tony’s back. Tony couldn’t let himself get complacent, didn't want to jump and fall again, so he rejected the comfort, brain at war with itself.

 

“What happens when you go?” he asked. Bucky had surely noticed and catalogued his internal struggle, and Tony hoped he could follow his thought process. “What happens when you leave me alone? Do I die by sky or by sea?”

 

If Bucky was confused by Tony’s metaphor, he didn’t show it. “I won’t leave,” he promised. “Not unless you make me. And even then, it’ll take a hell of a lot to tear me from your side.”

 

“I’d drown without you, I think,” Tony said sadly. He was at the stage where nothing he said was making sense. He couldn’t articulate what he wanted to say, he couldn't make anyone understand. “I fly too close to the sun, but Icarus drowned in the end. It's what you don't expect that gets you. I fear the sun, because it melts the wax. I don't remember the water until it's too late and you've gone.”

 

Bucky frowned. “You’re no Icarus,” he said decisively. “Icarus was young, arrogant, a little on the dumb side…” That got a broken chuckle out of Tony. “If anything, you're Daedalus. You flew with nothing but willpower and wax. You didn’t fall, you soared. I don’t think you’re a Greek character, though. Too tragic.”

 

“I  _ am  _ tragic.”

 

“You, Tony Stark, are a marvel,” Bucky swore. 

 

Tony breathed in deeply, finally allowing himself to draw comfort from Bucky’s presence at his back. “J, resume calculations,” he said finally. “Screens one through four, only. I’ve lost the thread for the rest of them.”

 

“Right away, Sir,” the AI sounded proud as he pulled up the screens. 

 

Tony wasn’t fixed, his problems didn’t magically disappear because Bucky was there, but even he had to admit that it helped. Maybe later, he would have a conversation with Bucky, he’d explain (coherently) the way that his brain worked, but those were issues for later. For that moment, Tony was content to be held by his lover, letting his brain slow to a manageable pace. 

 

“Thank you,” he whispered against Bucky’s skin.

 

“Always.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i was gonna put a fluffy bit in but i got lazy and it isnt long enough to warrant its own chapter, so here it is:
> 
> Being a genius had its perks.
> 
> “Bend that finger, again, please?” Tony asked, taking copious notes. He had fabricated a new arm for Bucky the night before after weeks of toil. He had to teach himself neurobiology to be able to make it correctly, and his brain had temporarily slowed to acclimate to all the new information he had fed it. 
> 
> Bucky sighed dramatically, but bent his index finger. “It’s fine, doll, really,” he reassured.
> 
> “Just fine?” Tony arched an eyebrow. “J, make a note. Restricted mobility along the second knuckle, check the internal alignment of the cogs.”
> 
> “You know what I mean,” Bucky leaned in for a kiss. “The arm is gorgeous and amazing and it works perfectly.”
> 
> “There’s a seven degree rotational restriction on your wrist,” Tony pointed out. “That could be the difference between life and death, you know.”
> 
> “Seven degrees?” It was Bucky’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “I’ll take your word for it.”
> 
> Tony scowled, but Bucky could see the amusement in his dark eyes. “See if I put rockets in your arm next time,” he said haughtily.
> 
> Bucky felt his mouth drop open. “Rockets?” he asked incredulously. “Where did you even fit them?”
> 
> “Shoulder,” Tony mumbled, blushing. “I appropriated some of my Iron Man tech, but I had to scale them down a little and mess with the power requirements. In other news, I may have invented a new type of rocket.”
> 
> “You’re a genius,” Bucky said, pressing a kiss to Tony’s mouth. “Seriously. Rockets?”
> 
> “There are lasers, too…”
> 
> “Genius, I’m telling you.”  
> \---
> 
> howd i do? 
> 
> (my jibe about ac/dc and metallica isnt my real opinion sorry i love screamy bands dont fight me ill cry)
> 
> comments and kudos make me less likely to throw myself into a volcano


End file.
